Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Suriname and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Bootsy Collins to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Average White Band,
Skaos,
Danielle Patucci,
Robert Wyatt,
Roxette,
The Slits,
The Searchers,
The Sound,
Mad Mike,
The Blues Magoos,
Public Image Ltd.,
Adolescents,
Yellowson,
T. Rex,
Main Source,
Brand Nubian,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Silicon Teens,
The Fall,
Nation of Ulysses,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lindisfarne,
Erykah Badu,
Franke,
Harry Pussy,
The Fire Engines,
Banda Bassotti,
Boz Scaggs,
Monolake,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sun Ra,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ornette Coleman,
Ponytail,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Donny Hathaway,
Arthur Verocai,
Scrapy,
Cal Tjader,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Camberwell Now,
Index,
Gang Gang Dance,
Con Funk Shun,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
New Order,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Tremeloes,
Masters at Work,
Fela Kuti,
Soft Machine,
Carl Craig,
Aloha Tigers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Johnny Osbourne,
Television,
Popol Vuh,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Toni Rubio,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.